


Diary of Le Papapillon

by bookskitten, miracujess



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: But also not, But only a little, Multi, diary format, hope u got ur pipe ready bc this is some crack, just lots of hawkwardness we guess, listen crack is an art and we're bad at it, nothing will ever be explained sorry, ramblins of an old man trying to connect with today's youth, season 2 time jump, so ooc it's just really ooc, there's also hella swearing and shade throwing, there's also more powers and more heroes shhh don't think too hard about it, um, warning: excessive references to memes, we're sorry?? but not really, zagspoilers from nycc btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookskitten/pseuds/bookskitten, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miracujess/pseuds/miracujess
Summary: Meet Le Papillon.
    Villain extraordinaire. Terror of Paris. And... babysitter to a bunch of teenaged heroes? When a new villain calling herself the Style Queen is unleashed onto Paris, the former nemesis of the superhero quintet, the Miraculous Crew, is forced to join forces with them in order to defeat her. However, Le Papillon is quick to find that looking after angsty, hormonal teenagers (all of whom he had once tried to kill one time or another) is not as easy as he would've hoped. Fortunately — or unfortunately, depending how you look at it — he has assistance from the infuriatingly "sage" Master Fu and the enigmatic newcomer La Paonne.Now, Papillon must settle into a unfamiliar role, surrounded by people he used to consider enemies. Before, his only companion was a thirst for vengeance and power, but now he might have a real shot of finding friends, love, and even family. The question is, is he loosing himself to become someone he's not?This is his diary.





	1. MY DAY IS REALLY FUCKED UP BY THIS HOT LADY IN YELLOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Meet Le Papillon._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _Villain extraordinaire. Terror of Paris. And... babysitter to a bunch of teenaged heroes?_
> 
>  
> 
> When a new villain calling herself the Style Queen is unleashed onto Paris, the former nemesis of the superhero quintet, the Miraculous Crew, is forced to join forces with them in order to defeat her. 
> 
> However, Le Papillon is quick to find that looking after angsty, hormonal teenagers (all of whom he had once tried to kill one time or another) is not as easy as he would've hoped. Fortunately — or unfortunately, depending how you look at it — he has assistance from the infuriatingly "sage" Master Fu and the enigmatic newcomer La Paonne.
> 
> Now, Papillon must settle into a unfamiliar role, surrounded by people he used to consider enemies. Before, his only companion was a thirst for vengeance and power, but now he might have a real shot of finding friends, love, and even family. The question is, is he loosing himself to become someone he's not?
> 
> This is his diary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when we take a pun Too Far. The summary might _seem_ like it belongs to a well-written, decently-plotted, drama-filled fic, but that is soooo not the case.
> 
> That being said, this will range from comic to romantic to gritty. Or at least, it will try to. We hope you enjoy!
> 
> You can find Flavia (aka bookskitten) @ marinette-buginette.tumblr.com, and you can find Jess (aka miracujess) @ miracujess.tumblr.com

_You will not_ believe _the day I had. How did I end up in this position? That’s a rhetorical question (obviously, you’re a journal), but I digress. How did everything get so screwed so quickly?_

_It all started when this crazy lady — dressed in butter yellow, might I add. Dreadful — shows up at the Secret Lair **™** and starts blowing. Shit. Up. It made me drop my tea. And my favourite set of china teacups! Can you believe the nerve? There I was, enjoying my morning, contemplating my next evil move when all of a sudden:_

_**BOOM!** _

_The tea got everywhere. Do you even realise how difficult it is to get tea out of this costume? Nooroo never shuts up about it. Piece of shit. You’d think he would act nicer, given how kind I am to him. I feed him three times a day, give him snacks, treat him like a son. I even made him a bow tie, but he won’t wear it. He thinks it is tacky. How can it be t a c k y???? I made it. ME! I put a lot of thought into it and made sure it coordinated with his colour scheme! For a butterfly, he sure does act like a bitch._

_But back to topic at hand: all that noise in front of my lair. UGH! I thought my day could not get any worse. Until I heard that annoying little catch phrase of that dirt-spotted, used tampon child._

_“Lucky Charm!” Blegh. We’re in FRANCE, girl. Speak French! Napoleon didn’t die for this. And get this: she’s even worse when you meet her in person._

* * *

 

Le Papillon was in no mood for all that hubbub at that time of the day. But, on the other hand, whatever caused it brought Ladybug and Chat Noir right into his clutches (well, not literally). And of course, like any competent villain, he would use any chance to take their miraculouses.

His tea spilt and forgotten, he strode to the window, half-ready to fling it open and to hiss at the juveniles to _stay off his yard!_ , but froze when a bright flash of fire bloomed in the air.

 _Note to self: Buy sunglasses_ , he thought. Some cool ones to show just how much of a cool villain he was.

Just as he began to ponder where to purchase the sick shades, a tremor shook the lair. The window rattled, and his hands shot to the glass for support as the vibrations jolted through him.

“What on earth?” he said aloud. To no one, of course, because he was always alone. But he will have a sad monologue about that later.

Looking out of the window, he saw a fight going on. On his lawn! If they ruined his begonias, they will regret it for sure.

 _This cannot stand_ , he thought crossly, and marched to the hatch in the floor. He was going to have a word with those insipid children, because this just got personal.

Taking his cane, which he had just finished lovingly polishing earlier, he started climbing down the stairs. It as a long way down, and he had to take care to avoid the tourists. He really should install an elevator. But that stupid mayor probably won’t like that. Bah, what an idiot. He should also start rigging the polls for someone else, someone much more malleable.

 _Like me_ , he thought. He was, of course, just kidding,; he hated politics, and people kept on telling him he lacked the charm of a politician. Rude.

Once he arrived outside through unknown the side door, he was surprised to see not only five animal-themed teenagers — who, by the way, should have been in school at that time of the day — but also a lady in yellow. A very _attractive_ lady in yellow. Yes, the yellow was garish and _so_ two winters ago, and she was laughing maniacally, but she pulled the whole look off well, despite it covering her from intricate hair to her interesting heels. That haircut was certainly interesting. Very avant-garde, _trés chic_. And the glowing staff added a certain flair to her ensemble. Maybe he would forgive her for ruining his poor, beloved begonias if she said sorry and agreed to go on a date with him.

He walked out into the open, waving his cane wildly above his head in a way that was both attention-grabbing and stylish. The street was a mess. The pavement was cracked and jutting up in large chunks. A fire raged in a nearby bush, and three lampposts lay bent and haphazardly across the street. The sweet aroma of panic and confusion hung in the air as the bright mid-morning sun shone down on them. No one looked at him, all too concerned with the battle at hand. The yellow woman was being held several meters aloft in the air by what looked like gold dust, swirling around her calves like a sandstorm.

In front of him were the teenaged heroes, all glaring at the woman fiercely. Their mothers apparently never taught them that it was impolite. Two of the heroes — both girls, one clad in orange and had long ears on her head, and the other in black and yellow (what was with the yellow?) — he wasn’t so familiar with. The other boy of the team, who was currently bracing his hands on his knees while his shield lay by his feet — was also still relatively new, and also just as annoying as the original duo, Ladybug and Chat Noir. The pair stood side by side and in the middle of the group, chests heaving with exertion and faces marred with grime. There was a stick in the blond one’s hair, and one of the girl’s pigtails had come loose, half her hair now moving gently in the breeze. She was speaking, her voice hard but too low for him to hear over the woman in yellow’s cackles.

 _They are multiplying!_ he thought, aghast. _What a waste of miraculouses._

Teenagers didn’t appreciate them for their true value. But back to the battlefield which street had turned into. The native tourists were running away from the church, frantic but also orderly due to the normalcy of these sort of things. Except the damn Americans. You can always spot them, taking selfies and filming vines on their stupid iPhones. And they are always wearing flip flops. Uncultured swines. You can’t come to the CAPITAL OF FASHION in flip flops and those horrible floral shirts. And don’t even get him started on the fanny packs.

Ignoring the gaping Americans, Papillon stepped closer to the scene, trying to exhibit all the swagger he had. Given everybody was still ignoring him, he decided to take action.

He thumped his cane against the ground, forceful enough to crack the pavement and send out a considerable _bang!_ Yet, only the black-and-yellow stripped girl looked at him, and that was only to raise a haughty brow before turning back to the other yellow female.

Papillon’s blood boiled. How dare these newcomers come into _his_ city and make a fuss? That was his job, thank you very much! He was the big bad in town, and he was going to remind them all of it.

Gathering his rage and his wits, he opened his mouth. “ _Oi!_ ” he roared, and was shocked to find… was that a _British_ accent? “YOU THINK YOU CAN COME HERE AND BE ALL NOISY AT THIS TIME OF DAY?” Now six pairs of eyes turned to him, wide and disbelieving. “IT’S TEN IN THE MORNING, YOU MONSTERS.” He glared at them in fury. “I SPILT MY _TEA_.”

All was silent, save for the distant sirens of police vehicles and the alarms of nearby parked cars. The girl with the long ears dropped a slim stick to the ground, along with her jaw.

“Um, dude? I don’t speak English,” the turtle teenager said, looking around helplessly at his teammates. ”Can someone translate?”

Chat Noir was the first to speak. “He said he’s a traitor to the Republic of France,” he growled. “We gotta kick his British, teabag-loving ass. _Vive le camembert!_ ” He lunged towards Papillon, baton raised to strike, but was yanked back by Ladybug’s grip on his belt. (“No, but seriously, what did he say?” his green comrade asked again, softly. No one paid him any heed.)

“Chat, concentrate on the real threat, not the condom! We have other fish to fry, kitty,” she said urgently, brows furrowed in concern.

Chat Noir righted himself and shook his head, the stick falling out and clattering to the ground. The seemed to break the hold on the newer heroes.

“That’s a bad guy, right? That’s _the_ bad guy,” exclaimed the orange-clad girl at the same moment Black-and-Yellow, who had slung her ponytail over her shoulder and was now inspecting the tips of her hair, said snidely, “Sacre Chanel, that is the ugliest effing outfit I have ever seen. And there’s this girl in my class who still wears _blazers_.” Papillon simultaneously beamed with pride at recognition and glowered at the insult.

Ladybug, too, seemed struck by that comment, and shot the girl a scowl. “Queen Bee! Please, focus!” she barked. “And, Dame Renarde, yes, that is _the_ bad guy, but not the bad guy _right now_.” Queen Bee sucked on her teeth but said nothing, turning back to the woman who still stared at Papillon.

He caught her gaze. That was the moment when Papillon knew he was madly in love.

 _Oh shit_ , he thought.

“Who are you?” he said roughly, like an idiot.

“Who are _you_?” she shot back. Her voice surprised him. It was huskier than he expected, and sounded almost familiar.

“I asked first!” Papillon ground his teeth in frustration. He got enough sass from the heroes, and now this lady? And she didn’t know who he was? His ego was taking all kinds of hits today.

Her lips curved into a smug smirk, and she raised her staff, causing the dust supporting her to rise further into the air.

“Who am I?” she bellowed, her voice taking on an otherworldly tone and resonating painfully in his skull. Judging from everyone else’s reactions, they also heard it. “I am the _Style Queen_!”

Ladybug groaned and dropped her head into her hand. “You have got to be kidding me,“ she muttered, and Chat Noir patted her shoulder in sympathy. “What a bunch of drama queens.”

 _So, there’s five things I know about her now._ Papillon counted them off. _She’s attractive, has a unique sense of style, is powerful, her name is Style Queen, and she’s enemies with the Miraculous Crew._

_She’s basically perfect. We are meant to be._

Style Queen pointed her staff at them. “Give me your miraculouses, or _die_.”

Papillon fought off a smile. “That’s right children, give the nice lady your miraculouses.”

“Including you.”

“What?” Papillon squeaked. “Me?”

Style Queen faltered. “Uh… yes. Was I not clear? All six of you, your miraculouses. Now!” she added, almost an afterthought.

Papillon’s hand flew to his chest and gasped in horror. “But – We’re on the same side! We both want the power of the miraculouses! You can’t have them all alone. How are you even gonna feed all the kwamis? They’re greedy little assholes.” In his peripheral vision, Papillon could see Chat Noir nod vehemently.

She sneered at him. “You idiot! I don’t want to posses the miraculouses; I want to _destroy_ them.” The reaction was instantaneous, every wielder flinching and instinctively reaching out to cradle their individual stones. That was the opposite of what he wanted!

This was going to make their date super awkward.

 

* * *

 

_What was a gentleman such as myself supposed to do? Turn her down? But she was hot. A little bit insane, but hot. A killer combo. And I haven’t been on a date since forever. Not because I’m not, oh so charming, but because the super villain thing kind of takes over your schedule, you know?_

_So there we were, ready to throw down. I was torn; what could I have done? Should I have ran while I could, and left the kids on their own? Or should I have fought the woman I love and risk loosing everything?_

_But then the woman in the blue dress fell from the sky. Oh, la, la, it was raining women today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawkmoth — or as we call him in this fic, Papillon — is a constant recipient of fandom ridicule. We saw the opportunity and ran with it. You're welcome.
> 
> Tumblrs:  
> marinette-buginette.tumblr.com  
> miracujess.tumblr.com


	2. JUST WHO EXACTLY IS THIS (SEXY) BLUE WOMAN?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fashion discourse always makes losers of superheroes and the occasional villain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our actual conversation
> 
> Jess: Ok to upload then?
> 
> Flav: Sure thing. If you think it is alright. 
> 
> J: Do you think it’s alright??
> 
> F: I think it is fab where is our noble for literature tbh? They should make a separate side for crack, we’d totally win it.
> 
> J: OMG THO
> 
> F: I’m right, I know I am.
> 
> Spoiler alert: Flav was 100% correct

_To no one’s surprise, she landed on me. On my face, to be exact... I mean, who could blame her? My face is incredible; totally worth using it as a lounge chair. Not to say it didn’t hurt. It hurt a_ lot _. I flat-out fell onto my ass, which was not a good look in front of those little brats and my future wife. I mean what will the love of my life think when she sees another woman on top of me? Totally improper. And those little brats might be annoying, but they are still children! Their eyes must be protected at all costs!_

_The ground was a cruel cushion and I was pissed. I shoved her off me and was about to thwack her upside the head with Mr Cane when I realized that she was battered, bruised, and unconscious. Oh, and also drop dead gorgeous. What was this, an episode from The Bachelor where I had to pick between two beautiful women? I certainly wasn’t complaining. But the selection was so haaaard. Scary and possibly demented, or probably dead but hopefully not as crazy?_

_Seeing her sprawled out on the ground, I could appreciate her dress. It was a deep cerulean with accents of blood orange and indigo. The dress was slit up until her thigh, and revealed leggings the same blue underneath and black calf boots. The dress had long sleeves and a mandarin collar, and the hem was just a little longer than herself. A new take on classy; innovative, and yet, with an air of classic style. A blue mask extended outwards from her temples, and teardrop-shaped hat perched jauntily (and amazingly) on her head, the same colours as the accents of her dress. Clenched in her right fist was a blue fan with rounded tips, and just beyond her other hand was a cane, also keeping in theme. It was the most elegant outfit I had ever seen. Truly beautiful, if it weren’t for all that blood. Maybe I could offer her some advice about blood stains?_

_I was so entranced by the artistry of her appearance that I forgot about the Style Queen trying to destroy a group of children._

* * *

Papillon gathered himself off the ground, while gently pushing the blue lady away. The brats started fighting his future wife again. How rude!

“Did no one else see the body _falling from the sky?_ ” he huffed, not liking being ignored again.

“We did, but this is Paris. Stranger things have happened,” Jade Turtle replied, barely sparing him a glance as he hurled his shield towards the Style Queen.

Who did he think he was? Captain America? What a copycat. Papillon let himself grin at that one. He was so witty. But first: the body.

He leaned over, pressing his (stupidly covered) ear to her chest. He strained to hear a heartbeat. But he couldn’t hear too much when a fight was going on.

“Could you maybe keep it down over there?” he called out. “I’m trying to do something here.”

The glare Ladybug sent his way was the reason the icecaps were melting. Who taught that child to glare like that? It was scary, especially with those bright blue eyes. He tried to glare back but she was too busy avoiding the fireballs being lobbed her way.

Giving up on the woman’s heartbeat, Papillon instead shifted up to the her slightly open mouth in order to try and feel her breath. And probably attempt CPR. That always worked, right? Looking at her so up close was disconcerting. She was striking, and her mask curled so intricately over the planes of her face. He leaned into to get a better look at the details...

“Hey, Condom Head! Will you make yourself useful and come help us in a fight against the crazy dudette who wants your miraculous as well?” Papillon instinctively recoiled at the sound of Jade Turtle’s voice, accidently hitting the woman’s pert nose with his forehead. She didn’t stir.

“I have a name you know?” he muttered, annoyed, while pulling Mr Caney out.

Now, he had to decide. Fight his wife, or not? Help the brats, or not? Loose his miraculous or… yeah, okay, that was a _NOT_. Oh well, marriage counselling was always an option. Shaking, he crouched adjusted Mr Caney so that the butt of the cane was against his shoulder and the dome of the power source was pointing towards the Style Queen, and, aiming through the clear glass of the dome, he started shooting some fear bullets at his dear wife.

The first bullet struck home. “I apologize, my darling. Hopefully, this won’t lead to a divorce,” he murmured. Style Queen froze, mouth dropping open in horror and loosening her staff, causing her dust attacks to halt. The heroes looked back at him, eyes wide in alarm and surprise. Why? Did they believe he didn’t have badass weapons? As if! His cane doubled as a sniper rifle, only the bullets were made out of pure emotion. He can have fun toys too. What did they have? Some children toys, that’s what! Who was cool now, huh? The Style Queen started to whimper and shiver, descending slowly until she curled herself into a fetal position on the floor.

“Now,” he explained calmly to heroes, “the fear will only last for five minutes, and I have a body to check. Some quiet would much appreciated.” Dame Renarde just nodded dumbly.

“You have to admit it was badass,” she defended when Jade Turtle hit her shoulder with a scandalized look.

“Why does he get an assault rifle when I get a spinning top? So totally not fair.”

Chat Noir cracked a devious grin. “At least your head doesn’t look like a melted dildo.”

“ _Touché_.”

“Excuse you! I just saved your skins and your tasteless suits!” Papillon protested.

“Mine is not tasteless!” Queen Bee argued. “It is by far the best one here.”

“Excuse you, but I disagree,” Chat said with a smirk. “Mine is far superior.”

Queen Bee sneered at the boy. “No one asked you, you freaking furry!”

“It’s an _aesthetic!_ ”

“Guys! The fight, please.” Ladybug was getting annoyed with how easy her teammates were getting distracted by fashion. Or lack of it. She really didn’t like talking about their suits, knowing she had the short end of the stick. But then again, compared to le Papillon, maybe she didn’t.

As if hearing her, Style Queen stood up, visibly shaken but mostly composed. Because frankly, between Papillon shooting emotions from the cane rifle and this anti-furry discourse, no actual fighting was going on. And it seemed that she every intention of rectifying that. The young heroes got in positions, weapons prepared for another round of hard fighting.

Meanwhile, le Papillon turned back to the fainted woman. Couldn’t these kids just let him take care of his wife? Without trying to beat his other wife? Such lack of manners. _Millennials_.

As the battle raged on behind him, Papillon furrowed his brows, unsure how to test for life. He couldn’t feel for her pulse beyond a vaguely faint rhythm — which could have been anything, given those despicable children who were busy making holes in the asphalt. Is there even insurance for superhero disasters? Seems like a profitable business venture.

Back to his blue wife who might not be alive. He leaned over her again, a little bit too close for his liking, but he needed to feel her breath — preferably without almost dying this time. He turned his head, nearly pressing his cheek against her parted lips, but his damnable mask got in the way. Sighing in frustration, he pinched her nose shut and prepared to give mouth-to-mouth (did he know how to do it? No, but he’s seen Jurassic Park enough times to wing it). He leaned forward, taking in a big breath, and—

Orange eyes shot open.  

And the next thing le Papillon knew, was he was punched in the jaw, very hard. Damn, this woman has one hell of a right hook. She might have knocked some of his teeth out. He wasn’t so sure, because he blacked right after her fist connected with his very chiseled face.

* * *

_And in that moment, is when I knew I was truly in love. But then I saw her brooch, and my day got kind of even more ruined. I should’ve guessed. She was a miraculous holder._

_Just my luck._

_P.S. It still hurts like hell._

_P.P.S. My other wife ran like hell after that. My fault for using the fear bullets, I guess._

_P.P.P.S. Nooroo really sucks. Why can’t he be like all the other kwami who love and respect their masters?_

_P.P.P.P.S. My suit is_ not _the worst one! Ladybug takes that prize._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time in the Papapillon's diary: some shit goes down and le Papillon learns the lesson of friendship <3
> 
> While getting his ass kicked, but really, it there any other way?
> 
> Tumblrs:  
> marinette-buginette.tumblr.com  
> miracujess.tumblr.com


End file.
